


Burning Faces, Turning Heads

by scar-and-boomerang (Y_Woo)



Series: Zukka Week 2020 [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Business Major Zuko, College AU, Engineer Sokka, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, Halloween Ball, Light Angst, M/M, Modern AU, Modern Era, Pining, Secret Identity, Sokka is Determined, Suki is gay, Zukka Week, Zukka week 2020, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, except Sokka is Not a competent prince, except not really, this is basically a cinderella story, zukka - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 17:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22347181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Y_Woo/pseuds/scar-and-boomerang
Summary: When the mysterious stranger vanished after their night together at the Beifong's halloween masquerade, leaving behind no name, no number, not even a face, Sokka was not going to let the love of his life slip away from his very grasp. Even if it meant four long months of pining and searching, grovelling and begging before Toph, and finishing a whole four pounder burger and a plate of fries in under forty minutes. After all, he may just may be the soulmate Zuko needed all along, even when he doesn't know it himself yet.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Suki & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Zukka Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607521
Comments: 47
Kudos: 857





	Burning Faces, Turning Heads

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2  
> Prompt: Masquerade  
> Own tags: Modern timeline, college AU, 'getting together' story
> 
> Title taken from the lyrics of the song Masquerade from Phantom of the Opera. Yes I realise this is weirdly similar to my first fic but from tomorrow on these two people are going to see and know each other's face the entire duration of the story I promise.

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just do this for me, Toph.”

“Like I said, even if I wanted to — which I don’t — it’s sensitive information. That guest list contains contact details of my dad’s closest business partners and a lot of important people, no way they’d let it leak.”

“And _I’m_ saying they don’t have to let it leak. You can hack into your parents’ files and smuggle it out, they ain’t the boss of you, they let you get away with basically anything already, and it’s not like I’m planning terrorism.”

Toph stopped and pondered this for a moment, setting her green tea down on the table and gazing at Sokka intensely in a way that may seem like she was studying him to people who did not know about her blindness. Finally, she conceded.

“You know what? You’re right.” Toph relented, shrugging in mock defeat. Just as Sokka got his hopes up that he’s finally cracked the puzzle that is his sassy, short friend, however, her face lit up in a sadistic grin. “So let’s go back to the original argument of _I don’t want to_.”

Katara and Aang’s whooping laughter drowned out Sokka’s groan as he buried his face in his arms crossed and laid on the table, not seeing the fist bump Katara gave Toph as a result.

“I love you, Sokka,” Katara chimed in, hint of mirth still in her tone, “but it’s literally been three months and it’s getting out of hand. You need to let this guy go.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, he’s the one!” Sokka lifted his head from the table to inform his sister heatedly, “I’m in love with him.”

“You’re in love with the _idea_ of him. At this point you’re just chasing a fantasy.”

“Never thought the day would come for me to say this, but I agree with your sister, snoozles. Think about it, you don’t know this guy’s name, you don’t know what his family does, you don’t even know what he _looks_ like. How could you possibly know that he’s the one?”

“Hey, what we _felt_ that night was real.” Sokka insisted.

He was vaguely aware that in the moment he sounded very much like a cliché coming right out of a cheesy romance drama that’s trying to be artsy, but it’s been three months and he barely been able to think straight, consumed by the need to track the mysterious boy down. He wasn’t exactly lying, either. All that’s been driving him was the electrifying connection he’d felt that night, he’s never had that with another person and he’s pretty sure he never will. Which is why he needed to get his hand on that guest list.

“Well, I think it’s sweet.” Piped up a cheerful voice from the other side of Toph.

“ _Thank you,_ Aang.” Sokka exclaimed, waving an arm at the grinning boy sitting diagonally across him, lowering the cup of hot chocolate he’d been slurping on, and leaning forward to let Katara wipe off the almond milk foam from the tip of his nose.

“Oh no. No, no. If twinkletoes here approves of anything you do in the romance department, you’re definitely on the wrong track.”

“ _Hey!_ ” Aang and Katara protested indignantly at the same time.

“Just saying,” Toph cocked her head nonchalantly and remarked, “the kid watches romcoms religiously and there isn’t a single YA novel he couldn’t quote on demand. I doubt he has any idea of what a realistic romance is supposed to look like that doesn’t take place in a _so-called soulmate AU_.”

“Again, _hey._ ” Katara repeated, albeit more weakly this time.

In his pocket, Sokka’s phone vibrated. He took it out to turn off the alarm, and stood up to drain the rest of his cold brew in one gulp, and slung his messenger bag back over his shoulders.

“Right, I gotta get back on campus. Senior year is _chaos,_ kiddos, don’t say I never warned ya.” He announced, feigning the stereotypical lecture tone complete with the exaggerated finger wag, before taking off to get his afternoon dose of engineering science.

True love will just have to wait in the face of a college education.

* * *

He had never felt so out of place in his life than in that moment, standing at the top of the wide marble stairs looking down at the impeccably polished ballroom floor, gaping like a drooling idiot at the flurry of multicoloured gowns, feathers, accessories, and the wide array of intricately sequinned masks.

It made his skin itch beneath his poorly fitting, rented tux as he picked at his own mask made out of cheap pressed cardboard and hastily painted with stark and simple tribal patterns.

At least Katara and Aang seemed like they were enjoying themselves. His sister couldn’t be more excited for the first opportunity to wear one of the formal dresses she’d inherited from their mother that she’d only just grown into. Clad in sky blue silk embroidered with silver cuffs and hems, Sokka couldn’t help but ache with pride at the beauty he thought he’d never see again after their mum had passed. Aang, by contrast, wore an elegant light yellow robe over his dress shirt and vest, and sported a mask covered with faux-feathers to match Katara’s yellow boa. Upon arriving, they made a beeline for the dance floor and began twirling out the new moves they’d learnt from ballroom dancing youtube videos specifically for this occasion.

“Enjoying the view?” Came a cheerful voice from behind him. Turning around he saw the friend who had invited them all to this occasion that her family had hosted, in an emerald dress and matching headband, holding a thin cane embossed with golden patterns and mounted with expensive jewels. Sokka almost did a double take as it took him a while to recognise Toph without her sweatpants and hoodie, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her hair not in a messy bun but instead braided so intricately, every strand meticulously pinned into place by a clear professional.

Sokka let out a playful whistle. “Dang, Toph, who is this posh, pretty lady and what have you done with the slob we all know and love?” He asked, earning a punch to the arm.

“Even knowing your family, they’ve outdone themselves this time.” He added, still glancing around the room trying to orientate himself from the dizzying light and glamour, “I feel like I’ve stepped right into a nineteenth century fancy French movie. I also feel severely underdressed.”

Toph shrugged and pouted her lips, “I’m sure you’re fine. It’s all just another dumb ball to me anyway, fancy dress or not. I’m going to dash, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, toodles!”

With that, she pattered off, taking full liberty of ‘accidentally’ ramming her cane into the heels of all the rich businessmen with eerie accuracy as she cleared a path in crossing over to the other side of the dance floor.

Sokka took a tentative step down the staircase, getting more confused by the event by the second and debating with half a mind just to ditch it and come back at the end to drive his sister and her boyfriend home. This really wasn’t his scene.

He wasn’t introverted, per se, as everyone who had ever spent more than twenty minutes with him in college could attest to, he was probably too loud and outgoing for anyone’s liking. But dressing a geeky, budding engineer up in a tux and placing him in the middle of an upperclass fancy dress party? You’d have more success giving a fish a tutu and asking it to do the ballet.

Besides, it’s the twenty-first century, how do _masquerades_ even still exist anyway?

“ _Thank_ you. My thoughts exactly.” An unfamiliar voice made Sokka aware that he had just spoken the last thought out loud. He practically jumped out of his skin as he reeled around to find a lean figure standing on the step above him, looking down.

The stranger wore a tux similar to his own, albeit much better fitted and clearly of a higher quality, but equally plain save for a glistening metal pin of a small crimson flame on his lapel. His mask, too, weren’t overly decorated like the others’ but closer in style to Sokka’s simplicity, wooden, blue background, and lined with white patterns to form something that vaguely resembled a mystical face.

“Clearly you didn’t get that colour co-ordination memo, my good sir,” Sokka quipped boldly, gesturing at the red pin and back at the blue mask, “because this? Does not _go together._ ”

The other man chuckled then, a short, deep laugh as he ran his hand through his hair to brush it out from in front of his mask. And Sokka had always hated the cheesy narration in YA novels about feeling the sparks upon hearing another’s voice or looking into their eyes for the first time and knowing they’re the one because love at first sight or whatever feel-good clichés they feed desperate teens these days.

But in that moment? It was like he was living in the surreal world of romance fiction.

Because _sparks_ , man.

* * *

Katara, Toph, and Sokka pushed open the glass front door of the diner to step inside the noisy, bustling atmosphere. Aang had refused to come with them, declaring that even witnessing the mass consumption of animal product for entertainment went against his vegan morals, but wished them a good time and the best of luck anyway like the sweet boy that he was.

Sokka’ sister, on the other hand, rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that evening.

“When I said we should do something fun on a Saturday evening, this is not what I meant.” She complained loudly as they walked up to an empty table.

“It’s free food and I get to kick Sokka’s ass, it doesn’t get more fun than that.”

“It’s only free if you finish it under an hour,” Sokka reminded Toph, “and bold of you to assume _you_ won’t be the one getting your ass kicked.”

“Bold words, coming from someone who is about to get their ass kicked.” Toph retorted easily, not quite realising they’d started repeating themselves, which prompted Katara to snicker at her brother and friend.

“You two are the worst trash talker on this planet.”

Suddenly seeing a golden opportunity, Sokka’s lit up as he extended his challenge proposal. “Tell you what, Toph? Let’s make this more exciting. If I win, you have to get me that guest list from the masquerade I’ve been asking for.”

“Oh my god, you’re not seriously still on that.” Katara shouted exasperatedly, while Toph pondered the terms.

“Fine.” She agreed, “launch your hopeless cause in the name of sappy romance once more. But if _I_ win, you have to go vegan for a year. I’ll recruit Aang to supervise you.”

Sokka winced, running through all his favourite dishes and snacks, and realising with horror that even with his limited knowledge of veganism, it was becoming obvious that none of those qualified. A week, a month was reasonable, but an entire year?

But true love is worth taking a risk for, he supposed. Besides, he would just have to _not lose._

“Deal.”

He did win in the end. After forty solid minutes of wolfing down bite after bite of burger and fries under the disgusted gaze of his sister, Sokka took a final gulp of water to wash down the last fry in victory opposite his opponent, who groaned in defeat through a mouthful of burger bun.

“Twenty minutes to spare!” He declared to the passing waiter triumphantly, “honour your deal, shortie, guest list in my inbox by tomorrow morning.”

“Call me shortie again and I rip your kidneys out and sell it on the back market.”

Buzzing with excitement and not believing his luck of finally being so close to tracking mystery masquerade guy down after months of searching and begging, Sokka grinned, reached out to grab a fry from Katara’s plate and popped it in his mouth.

“ _How_ are you not full yet?” His sister exclaimed in utter disbelief.

As promised, Toph had the guest list from the halloween masquerade delivered to his inbox, making his phone ping loudly at the ungodly hour of 7am on a Sunday morning. It ended up being Monday evening, however, before he got round to finally opening the file. As soon as he did, Sokka knew he was in trouble.

The list consisted of nothing but rows and rows of names, phone numbers, and email addresses blocked together by a seemingly arbitrary order of business-world hierarchy or importance to the Beifong industries, dragging on pages by pages with nothing he could possibly go off on.

Sokka didn’t know exactly what he expected, without knowing mystery guy’s name, relations to Toph’s parents, or anything about him. It wasn’t like the guest list would include a picture of each guest and a column that said “ _wore a dress suit that brought the absolute best out of that hot ass._ ” But it wasn’t until he was sat there, growing more frustrated by the second with the lumps of meaningless numbers and letters swimming off the page did he realise that this was no where close to the solution he had been hoping for.

But he was a _scientist,_ goddamnit, and he was going to crack this thing. Cupid help him.

* * *

“So what deems you fancy enough to attend this most exclusive social congregation for our resident privileged one-percent?” Sokka prompted the other man playfully.

They had migrated from the top of the staircase down to the ballroom itself, strolling casually next to each other while sticking close to the wall of the hall. Sokka had to admit that the crowded event wasn’t as intimidating with someone to talk to, even if said someone was a guy he’s never seen without the mask on, and appeared perhaps a little too brooding to his comfort.

Said stranger chuckled again, and Sokka could practically feel all precautions in his brain tossed out by his heart, which lurched and fell every time he heard the sound ring through the air.

“Family, I guess. My uncle runs a chain of business at several of the Beifong’s immobile property, from what I’ve heard. You?”

“Oh, I’m Toph’s friend. You know, Mr Beifong’s daughter. We go to the same college.”

The other guy nodded thoughtfully. “I thought you were too young to be associated with snobbish old men. Let me guess, English major?”

“Oh dear god. Tell me which aspect of my personality made you think that so I can change it immediately, please and thank you.” Sokka ranted dramatically, feigning urgency and earning a genuine bark of laughter from his new friend.

“I don’t know, I guess just your general wit, and seeming affinity for vocabulary. _“most exclusive, social congregation for our resident privileged one-percen_ t, and all that.” He answered, mockingly air quoting Sokka’s previous statement.

“Touché, I guess. I just read too many novels. I’m actually taking engineering science, I’m in my senior year at the moment.”

“I have to admit, I could not have seen that one coming.”

“That’s because my favourite _may the force be equal to mass times acceleration_ t-shirt unfortunately does not reconcile with Mr Beifong’s perfect vision for the dress code for this gaudy, lavish party.” Sokka lamented, tugging at the lapel of his tuxedo to make the point. “What about you? I’m assuming you’re in college too?”

“I graduated last year from the Eastern Institute of Technology, actually. Double major in business management and financial analysis. Don’t know if you’ve heard of the school or…”

“Yeah, I applied there back in the days too. Got in and everything, but it was a good four hours drive, and they only have dorms for first years. I figured I’d save some money living at home while studying here at Central.”

“That’s fair. It’s weird though, we could have gone to the same college.”

“Huh, I guess so. That _is_ weird.” Sokka agreed, pondering the possibility. “I doubt we’d have interacted much anyway.”

“Yeah, fair enough I guess. I would have been a senior when you were a sophomore.”

“Sorry, I just realised I forgot to catch your name.” He asked after a pause as they turned to stare at the dancing crowd. Sokka could vaguely make out Katara and Aang dancing in the opposite corner of the room, spinning together expertly with radiant energy. Beside him, his newfound companion sipped on a pink drink with a floating slice of ginger slowly. Lowering the glass, the corner of his lip quirked up into a faint smirk.

“And you’ll never find out.” He said coyly, “after all, this is the appeal of masquerades, no? _Hide your face so the world will never find you_ and all that Phantom of the Opera goodness.”

“Well someone’s taking this whole masquerade concept very seriously, _Mr. Daniel Day-Lewis_.”

“Huh?” The smirk was wiped of the other man’s face as he did a double-take trying to comprehend Sokka’s jesting reference.

“Get it?” Sokka explained, “because he’s a method actor and extends his roles off the set of the mov— oh, forget it. Forgive me if I assumed that someone who can quote what is arguably the most obscure song from _Phantom_ would have more cultural awareness.”

“You really do talk a lot, don’t you? Your lung capacity must be off the charts.” Was the response he got in return, spoken without any aggression but rather complemented by a playful swat on the arm. With a jerk, Sokka realised it was the first physical contact between him and the charming stranger all night, feeling weird how quickly they were growing comfortable around each other for two people who still didn’t know each other’s names or what the other looked like.

“I’m just saying,” he said after snapping out of the particular train of thought, “I’ll have to refer to you by something in the meantime.”

“I mean, I’d just planned on calling you ‘oi, you’ all night.”

“Well unlike you, I happen to have manners. So I’m going to dub you…” he paused, looking up at the masked face and imagined the deepest, most electrifying eyes beneath, and perfect cheekbones, and the strands of unruly bangs falling across arched eyebrows, and in his concentration the white patterns faded from the mask until all that was left was a faint veil of monochrome standing between him and the face of this other person. “Blue.”

The lips on Blue’s face parted into a sincere grin. “Blue.” He echoed, “I like it.”

* * *

“Any luck with your mystery masquerade friend yet?” Aang’s joyful voice chirped as he entered the coffeeshop and picked up his usual drink order Katara took the liberty of ordering for him.

“Nope.” Sokka lamented, popping the “p” at the end dramatically between his lips.

It’s been a month and he still hadn’t come up with a good tactic to sift through all the names on the list from Toph without resorting to phoning the numbers one by one and getting put on some kind of watchlist (though to be fair, if he still couldn’t crack it by the end of the week, he may just become desperate to give it a whirl). Hours poured into googling all the names had cut potential candidates down by almost half, but the rest of the people that were left either not quite famous enough to show up on the internet yet, or so rich and powerful they chose to remain elusive, and as a consequence had no faces attached to them. That was where he hit his dead end.

“What are we talking about?” Toph, who had just arrived, demanded as she strolled up to their table smoothly, leaning her cane by the leg of one of the chairs.

“Sokka’s deranged obsession over that masquerade one-night-stand, and how long we’re going to let this go on until we admit him to some kind of facility.” Katara informed the younger girl sourly, her tone growing less amused more irritated every time the topic came up.

“You know, it was amusingly pathetic at first, but now this is just pathetic.”

“Well, maybe I’d have gotten much further with this if your guest list had been more helpful, _Toph_.” Sokka bit back hotly, voice raised to defend himself against the jabs of the girls, “I have no idea who anyone is, and no way to narrow it down from two hundred people to _just the one_.”

Toph shrugged passive aggressively. “Honestly, that sounds like a you-problem.”

“O—kay, guys, shall we head out?” Aang, ever the peacekeeper, cut in. He held out two arms between Toph and Sokka, the latter’s glare falling futile on the blind girl, and proposed. The four got up and headed out the door, taking off to the movie theatre in a cluster.

“Wouldn’t it be hilarious if you finally track him down and turn out he was a creep or something?” Katara remarked thoughtfully as they strolled down the street, “or simply not interested, or he just didn’t feel it as much as you did that evening.”

“Tragically so, yes.” Toph chimed in, “or worse, _straight._ ”

Sokka made no response to defend himself as the group continued down the street in silence, Aang leading at the front with Toph tagging along behind him, one hand placed on his right shoulder to guide her on the pavement. Katara was at Aang’s heels, occasionally reaching a hand forward to brush her fingers against the boy’s. He trailed a little bit behind the trio, not wanting to be disturbed as he mulled over what his sister and friend had said.

It did strike him then that there was a very real possibility his mystery Prince Charming simply weren’t interested. After all, as far as he knows he hadn’t made any attempt to contact him, even though he knew that Sokka was a personal friend of Toph’s (god knows the girl didn’t have many of those) and that he was currently enrolled at the Central College. That was more information that anything _he’d_ been given to go off on, really.

Maybe he’s been trying as well, the optimistic side of him assured himself, he didn’t know Toph personally, couldn’t possibly get his hands on the guest list which would make the task a lot more difficult for him. Plus, it had taken Sokka himself this long, and that didn’t mean he wasn’t trying. And even he wasn’t interested, Sokka needed the closure if only in the form of a rejection. He’d been eaten alive by all the what-ifs since that fateful night, and he wasn’t sure how much more pining and longing for a mysterious character with nothing but a blue mask and the most irresistible voice he could take.

The rest of the gang had started chattering casually again by the time Sokka re-established his resolve in the wild goose chase he’d committed himself to. He was halfheartedly listening to Aang rave about the new module of oriental history lecture he took this semester when something flashed by in the corner of his vision that made him stop cold in his tracks.

There it was, printed large and golden on the signboard on the side of the street, the same emblem of a fire as the one worn on the lapel by the man he’d been searching for the past four months. The three forks of flames branching from the circular base, though simple and minimalistic, Sokka knew without a doubt that it was the same as the one he could have recognised anywhere. He stared in disbelief at the strange way the universe spins and could almost cry out in excitement and gratefulness.

“Sokka, dude!” His sister’s voice interrupted his thoughts once more. The rest of the group stood a couple steps away from him, Katara had her arms crossed in annoyance as all three (well, two, not including Toph) stared at him bewilderingly. “What is your problem? Unless you developed a sudden longing for tea, you should really explain why you’re stood there gaping at that board drooling like an imbecile.”

Sokka looked back up at the words he hadn’t noticed before, and noticed that it indeed read the Jasmine Dragon Tea Shop. Heart leaping with joy, he forced himself to play it off cooly to avoid further ridicule by his friends.

“Nothing, never mind, sorry. Just admiring the graphic design on this sign.” He said, not exactly a lie, grinning a cheeky grin at them apologetically.

“God, you’re so weird.” Katara rolled her eyes, but didn’t press the issue further as they resumed walking towards the movie theatre for their night out.

When he returned home that night, Sokka typed the Jasmine Dragon Tea Shop into his search engine, and pulled up the saved list of contact on his computer screen. Within the hour, four months of search came to an end as he located the owner of the tea shop chain, all rented on Beifong properties, Iroh, and his plus-one to the ball that night, his nephew, Zuko.

He stared at the name on the page. Zuko, he thought experimentally, trying out the sound of it out in his head. He still didn’t have a face in the memories, but at least now he had a name to go with the voice.

Before he could lose his nerves, Sokka picked up the phone, and dialled the number listed. The phone rang for a second, and a muffled voice came through when it was picked up.

“Hello?” Asked the voice of an old man who Sokka presumed to be the owner of the teashop, and Zuko’s uncle, Iroh.

“Hi Sir, sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for Zuko? And I don’t have his number, so…uh.”

“Of course,” Iroh replied kindly, “let me just get him for you.”

There was a shuffle on the other side of the line, then slow footsteps going up stairs and a muffled conversation taking place. Sokka waited patiently until the rustling in the speaker indicated the phone had changed hands, and the device was put to a pair of ears once more as another voice came through the line.

“Hello?” A confused voice rung out, and Sokka’s heart leapt and stopped at the same time. It was only a short word, but the familiarity of the voice came pouring through as he was whisked back to the night they’d met.

“It’s you, it’s really you,” he whispered, shaking. He did it, he found him.

“Uh… who’s this?”

“It’s me, we met at the Beifong’s halloween masquerade. We talked all night, you made fun of my impressively large vocabulary base. We had a really good time. Well I did, anyway. So uh, I’m sorry to call you up out of the blue like this, I know it’s been a couple months but it took me this long to track you down and now that I did I, uhhh…” Sokka trailed off from his breathless ramble, figuring it would be a good idea to see the reaction on the other side of the phone before being too forward about proposing anything.

“You’ve been looking for me all this time?” Zuko asked him, soft astonishment evident in his voice. Though the question wasn’t spoken unkindly, Sokka couldn’t help but wince.

“You haven’t looked for me at all, have you?”

“No. I mean—” the other man quickly backtracked when he realised how dismissive he sounded. Failing to find a better way to express himself, Zuko sighed. “Look, I had a really great time too that night, okay? And maybe I haven’t made it clear how grateful I am to you. But it’s just that, alright? A really great night. I’m moving on with my life, so should you.”

He was twenty-two goddamned years old and _he did not cry_ , Sokka told himself as he blinked rapidly to stop tears from spilling out of his eyes.

“That’s it?” He demanded, hating how choked up he sounded in a way that made it obvious how tight his throat was. Still, he pressed on because if he was going to be treated like shit he was going to get a final say and he knew that if he hung up he’d never get another chance. “I spend four months tracking you down, I ate a _four pounder burger_ to earn the rights to your uncle’s number, and you’re just going to tell me you’re not interested?”

“You ate a— _what_? No, never mind, I don’t want to know. I didn’t ask you to do this, okay? And I’m sorry you wasted your time and this isn’t what you were looking for, but trust me when I say it’s for the best.” Zuko insisted in his hard but gentle tone that infuriated Sokka to no ends, “you’ve clearly built up this fantasy around me since and there’s no way I could ever have a chance of living up to it. The last thing I want to be is another disappointment.” 

Zuko barked out a bitter laughter that — mad as Sokka was in the moment about the jerk move he couldn’t believe he was pulling — made his heart ache. He swallowed thickly, chest still pounding fast but not out of excitement anymore, and wanted to say so many things, anything, to hold onto him, but his tongue felt as if it were made out of lead, paralysed.

“Goodbye.” Came the soft, regretful voice from the other side of the phone before Sokka could make out a single word. With a quiet click, the line went dead.

It was the realisation that he didn’t even bother asking for Sokka’s name that made him realise with a pang that it was really over.

* * *

“All I’m saying is, he calls himself the fastest man alive at the start of every season, and then goes on to spend the entire plot of that season trying to get faster to beat some other speedster that is faster than he is.”

They had left the ballroom after a while, and was currently stumbling through a park a couple minutes away from the venue. Sokka’s face was flushed as he delivered the rant with a slightest hint of a slur in his words, and his breath gushed out in pale mist clouds against the late October evening.

“Yeah but it could be a flashback narrative, giving us clues to the ending of him defeating the bad guy and killing them, since he says he’s the fastest man _alive_. It’s like Romeo and Juliet - _a pair of star crossed lovers take their life_ , they tell you that in the prologue.”

Sokka giggled. “And you say I’m the English nerd, here you are quoting Shakespeare off the top of your head.”

“Culturally aware enough for you?” Blue shot back dryly, referring to Sokka’s previous commentary about him in good humour.

Coming up to an empty bench on the side of the footpath they’d been walking on, Sokka sat down. Instantly an unpleasant, icy dampness seeped through the thin fabric of his cheap suit, making him shudder. Still, stubbornly, he wriggled to make himself ‘comfortable’ before patting the empty space next to him.

“Your butt’s wet, isn’t it?”

“No.” Sokka lied blatantly and childishly.

“It was raining the hour before. Pouring, in fact. So tell me, oh mighty engineer, how can you butt not be wet right now?”

“Whatever,” he said, patting the space next to him again, “come sit.”

Sighing, Blue sat down next to him, letting out a disgusted “ughhh” as he felt the same wetness Sokka had been sitting on. The latter let out an immature snicker. “I got you. You totally fell for that. Now you have wet butt too.”

“Yeah, _you so got me_.” His friend resigned good-naturedly, “dear god, you are so drunk. Who gets drunk off of fruit punch? You’re such a lightweight.”

Sokka cocked his head to one side, attention diverted to something else as his expression fell to be more thoughtful, pondering his latest train of thought. “You know… we’re technically not at the masquerade anymore.”

“Yes, that is generally how geographical locations work. What’s your point?”

“Well, you said you wouldn’t show me your face because it’s the point of the masquerade. But now that we’re here…” Sokka brought his palms up to the sides of his heads, and made the world’s most physically uncoordinated jazz hand gesture, mock whispering “face reveal!”

The other man stilled. Under the light of the lamppost, Sokka could see him chewing on his lips in uncertainty, clearly reluctant about the proposition.

“No.” He said finally, his tone making it clear he wasn’t likely to change his mind. Even in his inebriated state, Sokka could feel his stomach drop in disappointment.

“No?”

“No.” The other man said, not elaborating any further. Suddenly, though, he sat up straighter and Sokka imagined his eyes lighting up in the sudden change of tone under the intricate and frustrating blue mask he wore. “I’ll tell you how I’ll make it up to you though.”

He barely had the chance to mumble out a surprised “oh?” before the pair of soft lips were on his.

* * *

Zuko had been sitting on the cheap plastic chair of the office canteen and solidly ignoring his friend’s not-so-discreet glances cast in his direction worriedly for the past half hour now. In front of him, the pasta in the takeout box was barely touched as he sat fiddling with his fork and staring in front of him, attempting to burn a coffee stain off the surface of the table with his gaze alone.

Everything sucks and existence hurts.

“Okay, _what_ has been shoved up your ass last night?” Suki, finally cracking and unable to deal with the sulking any longer, slammed her pair chopsticks down and demanded.

“What?” Zuko asked with a blank expression save for a slight frown, putting his own eating utensils back down onto the uneaten plate of food.

“You’re more miserable than I’ve ever seen you, and that is saying something after last halloween, when I thought you’d peaked in master sulk-ery. Which I still think is on you, by the way, all of that was a whole idiot move.”

“The guy called me last night.” He answered flatly, cutting off Suki’s ramble. There was no point in deflecting, Suki’s ‘no bullshit’ attitude meant she always got to the bottom of these things and avoiding the question is just painfully dragging out the inevitable. Besides, she was his best friend and he told her everything.

Suki blanched, clearly not expecting that answer. “The masquerade guy you’ve been pining after for lord knows how long now?”

“I’ve not been _pining._ But clearly he has, because it took him four months and he’s finally tracked me down. Well, my uncle, actually. He called his phone last night, probably wanted to ask me out on a proper date.”

“Damn. Clearly the dude has more balls than you.”

“I turned him down.”

He didn’t see the slap coming. He _never_ sees the slaps coming from her. Suki runs an all-girls tessenjutsu club outside of her nine-to-five work hours called the Kyoshi Warriors, and though she doesn’t bring her war fan with her to work (“ _I may not be able to hold back from murdering all the dimwits around here, so the safest option is just to remove the means and temptation._ ”), but the underlying martial arts reflexes are with her at all times.

“Ow!” Zuko whined, rubbing the back of his head where he had just been hit forcefully, “what was that for?”

“I’m trying to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours.” Suki hissed, “here I was, thinking you have reached the pinnacle of your dumbassery, clearly I’ve overestimated you.”

“I’m doing him a favour. He doesn’t know me, not really. And I’m just saving him from the impending disappointment of realising that he wasted all this time on nothing and he didn’t actually want to meet me again in the first place.”

“What in the ever-loving universe are you on about?”

“You know what I’m on about.”

“No, I don’t. So please, enlighten me.”

Even though they both knew that Suki knew exactly what Zuko was referring to, she instead on the guy saying it out loud himself. This was Suki’s usual tactic for a lot of issues, getting people to confront how idiotic they are being and how uncomfortable it makes them. Defeated, Zuko raised a hand and gestured vaguely at the scarred side of his face.

“I wore a mask that night. You know, as it’s a masquerade? He doesn’t know about this, probably still thinks I’m his destiny-given Disney Prince or whatever.”

“I fail to see how the two are mutually exclusive.” Suki deadpanned, not buying into her friend’s self-deprecating rubbish as usual. “Besides, something tells me you’re not doing this out of entirely selfless and noble reasons as you might want to believe.”

Zuko sighed, cursing Suki for her amazing skills in seeing right through people. “Fine. You’re right. Look, that night… it was amazing. It was the first time everyone treated me like a normal person since _this_ happened, and I walked around without having to pretend I didn’t see the frightened or curious or pitying glances, didn’t feel exposed and vulnerable. And… _him_. I got to see what it was like to be with someone who didn’t see or know how irreparably broken I was. And I’m not sure I want to give him a chance to take that away from me. If he turned around and rejected me once he saw what I looked like? I’m not sure I could take that.”

“You’re right, maybe you guys hit it off so well because he couldn’t see you face,” his friend picked up her chopsticks from across his again, and took a bite of her fried spring rolls thoughtfully, tone much softer than before, “or maybe you did because you’ve finally found the right person, and you’re letting him slip right through your fingers.”

“Highly unlikely.” Zuko chuckled bitterly, “I doubt anyone would ever want me, horrible facial mutilations or not.”

“I would.” Suki blurted out, causing her friend to stare at her bewilderedly. She quickly amended “I mean, if either of us are straight, of course. But my _point_ being, you’ve got to give people more credit, Zuko, you’ve got to give _yourself_ more credit too.”

Around them, people were starting to get up and return to their working desks in the office as the end of the lunch break approached. Suki finished the last bite of her food, gathered the empty containers, and stood up.

“Look, man, I’ve only known you for like a year, but I love you.” She added, “and I _know_ you, too. Though I wasn’t there for most of your life, I know you were miserable for most of it. I don’t blame you, either, what happened to you I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies. But that’s even more reason you deserve happiness and it’s about time. This person, I’ve never met him, but if what you say is true and he spent the last four months tracking you down, then you clearly mean a lot to him. And I think he means a lot to you too. Don’t give up on that before it’s even started. You owe him — and yourself — at least that much.”

Zuko replaced the lid on his lunchbox and put it back inside his bag, giving up entirely on consuming food that day. He looked up at Suki, and reluctantly broke into a faint smile. “What would I do without you, O wise one?”

“Oh, make poor life choices and end up cranky, old, and surrounded by cats.” The girl said easily, patted his shoulders, and took off.

When he went home that evening, his uncle hadn’t come back yet. He fished out his unfinished lunch from his bag, and stuck it the microwave to reheat it. Not even bothering to turn on the light, he sat down at the small kitchen table in the dim room and wolfed the pasta down in record time. Sulking really does take a lot of energy out of a guy.

Some time after that, the sound of keys turning at the front door rung out, and Iroh stepped into the flat.

“Uncle.” Zuko greeted him, standing up from the sofa and pressing pause on the TV remote, “you’re back early today.”

“There not much to do at the shop today, so I let Mai lock up and left early.” The old man said mildly, taking off his shoes and lining them up neatly against the wall. “I see you’re watching the documentary I got you for Christmas.”

“Yeah, it’s really interesting.”

“Good, I’m glad. How was your day, nephew?”

“It was fine.” Zuko replied without further elaboration, causing his uncle to frown in concern.

“Something’s on your mind, Zuko. I can tell you’ve been kind of down lately, and I haven’t seen your lovely young lady friend around for a while either. Did something happen between you two?”

“No, no. Suki and I are fine, and I’m fine.”

“There is a heaviness in your voice, my boy. More so than usual. I’m not going to pry,” his uncle added hastily, putting a hand up to cut off Zuko’s budding protest, “I don’t want to overstep my boundaries — though you know you’re always welcome to share anything with me — and make you uncomfortable. But problems won’t sort themselves out while you sit and watch them, Zuko. If you want life to go your way, you have a lend a guiding hand yourself.”

He nodded thoughtfully at his uncle’s words in acknowledgement, and made to go back to the living room before stopping in his tracks and turning around once more. “Actually, uncle, the guy who called you last night? Do you think I could get his number from you?”

Iroh smiled in way which indicated that he’s overheard more of their telephone conversation from the previous night than he’d let on.

“Of course. He seemed like the most delightfully respectful young man.” He nodded approvingly, “someone special?”

Zuko pondered this for a while, “Not yet, but I hope he could be.” He allowed in the end.

He opened his phone and entered the number into his contacts, feeling a small pang of guilt and shame at having to leave the name field blank. Before he lost his nerves, Zuko quickly typed out the message:

“Sorry about last night, that was a jerk move. If you’re still interested, I’d love to meet up again: the Jasmine Dragon Tea Shop on Milton Avenue, tomorrow at 7pm. Zuko.”

He felt his heart leap a little with a foreign feeling he hadn’t felt for a long time. As he hit the ‘send’ button, he recognised that it was hope.

* * *

The great thing about getting drunk on an unholy amount of fruit punch, was that it wears off fast. By the time they left the park with the rear of their trousers completely soaked through, Sokka had more or less sobered up. They circled back to the ballroom to make sure the party was still raging on, and, neither of them particularly feeling up to returning to the crowded room, they decided to stroll around to the main street of the town.

“I’m glad we’re doing this outside.” Sokka admitted contentedly, “my face was really sweating like heck under the mask inside there.”

“If this is another ploy to get my mask off, not a chance.” Came the amused reply.

“Ah, damn. That was worth a shot though.” He said in feigned defeat, reaching down to lace his fingers into that of his companion walking beside him, marvelling at the warmth it was radiating despite the humid, autumn night air, “guess I’ll just have to make do with this.”

“Wow, your fingers are icy. If you have a circulation problem it’d be worth checking that out.”

They walked down to the roundabout connecting several avenues flanked by high-end fashion boutiques, where a large pine tree stood erect in the middle, clad in fluorescent, swirling fairy lights and glittering snowflakes.

“It’s literally halloween, how are Christmas stuff already up?” Blue tore his hand away from Sokka’s and raised it to gesture at the impressively decorated tree.

Maybe he wasn’t as sober as he’d thought, only progressed from the hyperactive stage to the stage of messy, melancholy drunk, but Sokka felt an inexplicable bubble of heaviness rising in his chest, making him feel bloated and tense.

“My mum used to take my sister and I here to the Christmas market every year.” He told the relative stranger (who had absolutely no obligation to listen to his sob stories, a drowned-out voice in Sokka’s mind reminded him, which was promptly ignored) standing next to him, “they never change the decoration each year, this tree looks exactly like it did before she died. That was thirteen years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” The other voice replied simply.

“It was armed robbery,” he pressed on, embarrassingly aware that no one had asked. But it was as if a dam had opened up inside him and the words he had never spoken before came pouring out, unstoppable. He’d never told anyone before, the people close to him knew and it if they didn’t it wasn’t their business anyway, and it was Katara who had told the story to Aang and Toph when they’d met. But there was something about the anonymity and safety of the masks that made him want to stop running and hiding like he did all his life, that made it all feel natural.

“My dad took Katara and I out to get takeout for dinner. By the time we came back, the day was pitch black, and the guy was long gone. They never did catch them.”

There was a long pause of silence as Blue didn’t reply. Just when Sokka grew worried that he’d overshared and made things uncomfortable, and was about to apologise, his voice came ringing through the empty nighttime streets.

“My mum left when I was eleven.” He offered, “my father was fighting with his father and brother about the family business or something, and she got involved. She left the next day, just packed her things and disappeared. I didn’t know where to, still don’t. I love her, I was really close with her, and I’ve got all these amazing memories of her, but I can’t help but feel a little bit abandoned and betrayed, you know? She’s never contacted me since.”

Sokka leaned forward then, and pressed another kiss to his lips.

And that was how they spent the rest of the night, strolling aimlessly and talking, hooking their fingers together and stealing kisses in between confessions of their insecurities, baring their souls to another who spoke the language of their hearts.

Sokka told him of a dad whom he loved dearly, but who threw himself into his work as a police detective after the tragedy to cope, leaving him to play mother and father to a younger sister filled with pent up anger and hurt, trying to undo the wrong done to his family before it tore them apart at the seams

In return, he heard a tale of a boy moving in with his uncle after coming out at thirteen, of years of psychological abuse, manipulation, and favouritism keeping a brother and sister apart and at each other’s throats, of a father who had not been heard from in seven years, and of the ugly final confrontation. He was shown the strength it took to sever ties with a family who’s been drowning him in heaviness, and finding a life in the terrifying lightness after.

For the first time in years, neither of them felt incomplete as they had ever since they could remember. For the first time in years, the pain of being the outsider, misunderstood, never truly, genuinely happy lifted from the shoulders of both men. As the breaths that carried their tales drifted in strands of white mist into the lamplit air, for that one glorious night, they were reborn.

“We should head back,” Blue noted, checking his watch, “the party’s almost over and I have to get a ride home from my uncle, I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“And I think I’ve sobered up enough to drive my sister and her boyfriend home.” Sokka agreed reluctantly, not wanting this evening to end.

They walked back to the venue, and in the seconds it took for Sokka to locate Katara and Aang, who’s tired themselves out dancing and were now leaned against the side of the room, talking subduedly, his Cinderella slipped out, leaving behind no name, no contacts, and no face.

* * *

“You came.” Sokka called out to the silhouette standing in the back of the now-empty shop, facing the window. Though the latter wore jeans and a hoodie in lieu of the formal tux like last time, he could recognise the lean figure anywhere. “I wasn’t sure if you would when I got the text, you didn’t sound all that enthusiastic in our first call.”

The figure didn’t move, or speak.

“Seriously,” He pressed after a beat, “I’m starting to get the feeling I’m about to be murdered. Am I about to be murdered? I prefer injected with an overdose of drugs if you must. It’s only polite to take into account the preference of your victims if you’re going to murder them without warning after tricking them to meet up with you, right?”

Once again, silence ensued.

“It’s Sokka, by the way.”

“Zuko.” The other man finally replied, turning around towards him and finally seeing Sokka’s face. The first thing he noticed about the man was the striking blue eyes sparkling in the dimly lit tea shop, so full of intensity and wit Zuko felt blown away all of a sudden. He took a moment to take in all of Sokka’s features, more stunning than he could remember imagining them to be. He was perfect, and it made Zuko all the more self conscious about revealing his own face.. “But I guess you already knew that.”

“Did you not take off that mask for the whole of the four months, or what?” Sokka played for a joke, noticing the blue and white mask Zuko wore to the masquerade had been dug out from a drawer and put back on last-minute he before headed to meet up this evening.

Zuko laughed softly and shook his head, Sokka frowned, serious this time.

“Blue— _Zuko_ ,” he called him by the name for the first time and the way he said it made Zuko shiver tensely with a feeling not entirely negative. Sokka took a couple step forward up to Zuko, and reached out to tug the mask upward tentatively, “can I…?” He pleaded.

Zuko ducked his head in resignation, letting Sokka tug the cardboard mask over his head and feeling his bangs fall back on his forehead once again. _Not covering nearly enough,_ he thought to himself as he took a deep breath and looked up into Sokka’s eyes.

The scar bloomed under the fluorescent light of the room, an angry red gnawing at his skin as it had been doing since he was thirteen. Zuko watched as Sokka’s eyes widened while his gaze traced over the shape of the scar he had spent ten years memorising himself in the mirror.

“Oh.” Sokka whispered softly, the mask that was still held in his hand dropping onto the floor in a dull clatter, and Zuko’s heart dropped with it.

“Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t be less disappointing to you, and if I led you on or anything. I understand if you… if you,” he trailed off, not having enough strength to finish the sentence. “I’m just gonna go now.” He finished off weakly.

Before he could take a step, however, Sokka raised his arm and a hand was pressed to the left of his face. Zuko squeezed his eyes shut, and wished he could feel the softness and gentleness of the fingertip thumbing the hardened ridges of his scar tissue, but instead only receiving numbness and a vague pressure from the burn-damaged nerve endings on his skin.

“You look just like I hoped and knew you did.” Sokka told him, voice soft and firm, “every bit handsome and amazing, and more.”

Zuko could almost sob with relief at his words, his heart beat so fast and so lightly, it was like fireworks exploding in colours and heat in his chest. Instead of crying, however, Zuko simply grabbed Sokka’s cheeks, and pressed their lips together.

The soothing touch of their skin together, _truly_ together this time, without the distance of any masks, it was like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> You all! The lovely and talented Flameo_Hotman made this amazing fan art for this pic as a birthday gift and I cannot stress enough how much I appreciate and love it!! My first fan art as a writer! *squeals* please go check it out and if you have a Tumblr show their page some love too they post really great stuff.
> 
> https://flameo-hotman.tumblr.com/post/613268158534598656/scar-and-boomerang-here-is-the-fanart-for-your


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